The sudden disappearance of the prominent political figure and her personal bodyguard had become headline news for nearly a month. Despite the numerous efforts to find them, there were no leads. Eventually, authorities declared them officially missing.
The power vacuum in the organization she controlled triggered internal chaos. Those vying for her position began turning on one another in ruthless ambition, seeking to seize control. But while the power games played out among the elites, it was the girls still held captive who suffered the most—forgotten and neglected.
Sara met Javier, a trusted friend, in a quiet corner of a local café, far from the upper city's affluence. The flickering candlelight danced between them as they spoke in hushed voices, their expressions etched with concern.
"They're tearing each other apart," Javier murmured, sipping from his mug. "One of them will come out on top—and it'll be the cruelest of them all."
Sara wrapped her hands around her cup, eyes fixed on the rising steam. Her thoughts were far away, echoing in the chambers of her past. Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke.
"And in the meantime, the girls remain trapped. Hurt. Forgotten. No one lifts a finger to help them."
Javier noticed her hand trembling as she lifted the cup. He gently touched her wrist. "Sara… you're pregnant. Please, take care of yourself."
At his words, her body stiffened. She closed her eyes, the weight of memory bearing down on her like a crushing tide. She remembered the loss. The grief. The tiny life she once carried and the darkness that tore it away.
Tears gathered and fell silently, trailing down her cheeks. She wiped them away with a defiant hand, though the ache remained in her chest.
"They took my child, Javier," she whispered. "How do I move on from that?"
"You don't forget," he replied softly. "But you fight back—with life, not despair. You have a family now. Nick. The twins. A new child on the way."
She looked down at her rounded belly, placing her hand over it gently. A flicker of warmth bloomed through the shadows.
"They're the reason I wake up every day. But when I'm alone... I still hear the silence that followed that night. I still wonder if I deserve to be happy."
"You do," Javier said, his voice firm. He took her cup and pushed it aside. "But to truly heal, you need to tell Nick everything. All of it. You can't carry this pain alone anymore."
Sara looked away. Her lips pressed together in hesitation.
"Tell him your truth," he repeated. "You've faced nightmares and survived. Let him stand beside you now."
He left enough cash on the table to cover their drinks and stood.
"This one's on me. Call him. Don't wait."
As he left, Sara lingered at the table, watching the candle flicker in the soft light. She hesitated a moment longer before pulling out her phone and dialing the number she knew better than her own heartbeat.
"Hello?" Nick's warm voice filled her ear. Her breath caught.
"Nick…" Her voice cracked under the weight of everything unsaid.
"Sara? What's wrong?" Panic stirred in his voice.
"I just... I need you," she whispered, clutching the phone with both hands.
"Where are you, love?"
She told him, voice trembling. The address she gave was deep in the city's outskirts—where memories still lingered like ghosts.
"I'm fine," she tried to reassure him, though the tears still streamed down her face. "I'm safe. Just… come."
"I'll be there right away," he promised. "Don't move."
She ended the call and stepped out into the cool night. The wind brushed against her face, and for the first time in a long while, she let herself hope that maybe—just maybe—this truth wouldn't break them, but rebuild them.